Chapter Three

FOR TEN SECONDS after Ana opened her eyes, she was happy.

All too quickly, yesterday’s twin nightmares crashed over her like breaking waves, sweeping away those fragile particles of contentment. She might have mitigated the client issue, but she wasn’t naive enough to think that was the end of it. Mason had proven he did things merely to get a rise out of his publicists, and there was little chance he would stop at underage escorts.

For all the distaste she had for her new client, he wasn’t her biggest problem. Rachel and Alex still didn’t have a wedding venue, and every day she procrastinated was one day closer to potential disaster.

But venues didn’t open at 7 a.m. on Saturday. Ana hauled herself out of bed, brushed her teeth, squeezed into a fresh set of gym clothes. A cup of tea and half a slice of toast later, she was headed out to her usual Saturday morning spin class. Gibson didn’t feel like he’d done his job until he’d made someone puke, so the real breakfast could wait until she was done.

A little more than an hour later, Ana left the gym, sweat-drenched and jelly-legged, but unaccountably proud that she had not been the puker today. That honor had gone to a poor noob who didn’t take the class’s high-intensity warning seriously enough before booking his bike.

One task down, thirty-two to go.

She went home to shower and change, then sat down with a cup of coffee and her planner. First up was her Scripture reading and daily devotions —a book for busy women that was supposed to teach her how to surrender and breathe. She powered through the reading, but halfway through the reflection questions, the only thing she was reflecting on was the list of wedding venues waiting on her laptop. She stole looks at the dark screen every ten seconds until she finally gave up and put the devotional aside. She’d go back to it later after she’d dealt with this task. Even as she logged in, though, she knew it was probably a lost cause. What were the chances any halfway decent location would have cancellations at all, much less on the particular date they needed?

Three hours later, Ana had a spreadsheet with half the text grayed out, the other half with notations to call back the following week. She pinched the bridge of her nose for a long moment and then drained her coffee cup down to the cold dregs. It was useless. On Monday, she would call all the venues that hadn’t responded, but she didn’t have high hopes.

She had to tell Rachel. She wouldn’t stop looking, but she needed both Rachel’s and Alex’s input to determine acceptable alternatives. She just hated the feeling that she’d somehow failed two of her favorite people in the world.

But since it was still hours until she could head to the restaurant for supper club, she clicked over to her email. Not surprisingly, she’d racked up dozens of messages since she left the office last night.

Despite his antics, Mason wasn’t even her most pressing client. She was currently juggling several active files, one of which involved a scandal surrounding allegations of performance-enhancing drugs against one of Colorado’s most beloved Olympians, downhill skier Beth Cordero. Beth hadn’t even tried to deny the accusations —she’d only come to Massey-Coleman in an attempt to stop the media firestorm that had followed her admission of guilt.

Ana certainly didn’t approve of cheating, but when she’d heard Beth’s story, she couldn’t help but feel a measure of sympathy. Her mom had been the legendary slalom athlete Jeanine Cordero, both her career and life cut short by cancer in her thirties, when Beth was just an infant. Beth’s father, Denton, had been determined to make over his daughter in his dead wife’s image and devoted himself to her career, even homeschooling her while she trained. On the surface, Beth said, everything seemed great, but in private Denny had been abusive and overbearing, punishing her for bad training sessions and cutting her off from any influences in her life that he deemed unproductive.

The picture the athlete painted was of a woman bullied and isolated, who had never experienced life outside of skiing. Never willing to risk getting sued for slander, the firm had done its research and corroborated the story, though Beth’s family and friends refused to go on record about the abuse.

Now Ana’s real work began. Some heartfelt press conferences had preserved Beth’s endorsements for now. Ana’s real job was to take the momentum and convert it into charity work and speaking engagements. By the time she was done, Beth Cordero would be a positive role model and spokesperson for women suffering emotional abuse. No one would even remember the revoked gold medal.

But first, Ana had to craft a pitch for the speakers’ bureaus. She wrote a compelling biography for Beth and then moved on to several less time-sensitive projects she’d been putting off during regular work hours. When she finally glanced up, the clock told her it was already after six. She’d spent all day on the computer at her kitchen table. No wonder her eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper.

At least she got to spend the evening with her friends. She went to the bathroom to freshen up her makeup, then traded her T-shirt for a floral-printed chiffon button-down and slipped into a pair of bright-green pointy-toed flats. The cheerful patterns and colors made her smile. Spring kept threatening through bouts of snow; she was going to pretend that today’s sunshine would stay. She transferred the contents of her purse into a more casual handbag, grabbed her keys, and headed downstairs for her car. She’d be early, purposely —better to tell Rachel the bad news in private.

Street parking on Old South Pearl in Platt Park was as bad as ever, cars lining the streets on both sides and down intersecting roads. She circled the block twice without finding a space, then gave up and pulled into the crowded alley behind the building. Both Rachel’s old Toyota and Melody’s Jeep were parked there, where they’d likely been since four a.m. Even nine months after opening, her friends were still working fourteen-hour days.

Ana stepped out of her SUV, avoiding a greasy puddle that had formed in the potholed asphalt, and moved toward the back door. Unlocked. She pushed through, the heat from the kitchen hitting her immediately in contrast to the cool outside air. “Hello?”

Melody saw her first. “Ana!” She turned away from what she was doing —labeling large round containers with Sharpies on masking tape —and held her arms out for a hug. “I’m glad you came early. We could use some help setting the table. We’re running behind tonight.”

Ana flicked a glance to the range, where Rachel stirred something in a gigantic pot with a long-handled spoon. They could be behind or on time, but you’d never know from looking at Rachel; in the kitchen, she always had the same measured stance and unreadable game face.

“Hey, Ana.” Rachel offered one arm for a sideways half hug before turning back to her pot. “Sorry, I can’t leave the risotto. How are you?”

“Long, crummy week. I’m glad to see you guys.” Ana inhaled deeply. “Something smells amazing. What are we having?”

“Braised lamb shanks over parmesan-mushroom risotto. My guy brought in some morels this morning, and there was no way I was going to pass them up.”

“I’m hungry already. What can I do?”

Rachel nodded in the direction of the dining room. “Tables are set up and the plates and flatware are on the front counter. Mark folded the napkins before he left, so you can just put those on the plates.”

“Sure thing.” Ana backtracked and put her purse and her wool coat in the staff room, not much more than a closet in the back of the kitchen, and then headed out front to get the tables ready for guests.

To say that Bittersweet Café was her happy place was perhaps an understatement. In the last two years, Rachel had left behind her high-pressure executive chef job and Melody her dead-end position in a chain bakery, then decided to open their dream restaurant together. The way all the details had come together was downright magical; nowhere in Denver’s history had a functional café and bakery materialized in under four months. But Ana had no doubt there had been a healthy measure of divine intervention in the situation. She could feel it in the mood and the atmosphere of this place. Light, welcoming, refreshing. It was no wonder they’d quickly developed a devoted following. They were already in the middle of plans to take over the vacant space in the strip mall beside them and expand to meet their ever-growing demand.

Ana couldn’t be prouder.

If she were truthful, she was also a little jealous. She might be good at her job, and she was certainly well paid, but there was an allure to the idea of working with her best friends, being surrounded by delicious food and baked goods. Too bad she had absolutely no culinary talent. Her mom had made sure she could cook rice properly and prepare Filipino dishes like adobong manok and kaldereta, but her skills stopped there. Considering the fat and calorie content of those foods, she’d left her childhood meals behind in favor of an endless stream of grilled chicken or fish over salad.

The smaller two- and four-person tables had been pushed together into one large rectangle in the center of the main dining area, chairs set at each place. Stacks of square salad plates sat on the counter, along with bins of flatware. Ana did a quick count. Twelve tonight. Friends-and-family night tended to be smaller and quieter than the regular supper clubs, which were now running sixteen to twenty-four guests. Even that seemed a bit much to Rachel, but she had expanded the invitation list simply because she hated constantly turning people away.

Ana carried a stack of plates to the table and set one precisely in front of each chair, making sure the square edge of the dish was parallel to the edge of the table. Each piece of flatware was placed as carefully as the plate: two forks to the left, a knife and a spoon to the right, dessert fork horizontally above. She had to search a bit for the napkins, but she finally found them in a plastic bin behind the counter.

“Ana,” Rachel called from the kitchen, “can you unlock the front door and put out the private-party sign? Alex just texted me. He’s looking for parking.”

“Sure,” she called back. She found the chalkboard A-frame sign beside the counter, flipped the lock on the door, and carried the board out onto the sidewalk. Someone —Melody, most likely —had hand-lettered the message Closed for private party. Visit us tomorrow beginning at 6 a.m. They were always closed in the evening, but a full house and an open door had a tendency to attract the curious.

Ana was surveying the table, trying to decide what it needed, when the bell on the front door jingled. She turned, a greeting for Alex on her lips, then froze.

Alex wasn’t alone.

“You’re back.” It was a dumb, obvious thing to say, but as she looked over Bryan Shaw, she wasn’t sure she’d have recognized him on the street. His usually short hair was shoulder-length, now pulled back in a ponytail, his typically clean-shaven face covered by a short beard. It was Bryan, but not.

“Hey, Ana.” He approached her slowly with a smile, and they did that awkward thing where they tried to figure out whether a handshake or hug would be more appropriate. Apparently, he voted hug, because before she could decide for herself, his arms were around her. She gave him a squeeze back, inhaling deeply and then wishing she hadn’t when the whiff of his familiar cologne put a tremor in her middle. “When did you get back in town?”

“So, I’m just going to go say hi to Rachel,” Alex said, “since no one has noticed me anyway . . .”

Ana laughed, and a flush heated her cheeks. “Sorry, Alex. I promise, if you disappear without a trace for eight months, I will give you the same greeting.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Alex looked between both of them with a smile and then pushed into the kitchen.

Bryan watched his friend go with a self-conscious laugh. “I got back yesterday. I asked Alex not to say anything because I wanted to make a grand entrance.”

“Then you’re about a half hour too early.”

He gave her his trademark half smile. “No, I’m not.”

Ana let out a laugh. “Whew. For a second there, I thought you’d come back from Colombia a different person. Nice to see the Bryan I know is still in there.”

Bryan looked inexplicably pained by the statement, but he shifted back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. “You look good, Ana. How have you been? Still saving the world one publicity crisis at a time?”

Ana leaned back against the edge of the counter, bracing her hands beside her. “More like saving people from their own stupidity one publicity crisis at a time. You remember that coffee shop in Five Points with the image problem?”

“The one that had to close because of their insensitive sign? I actually saw it on Westword while I was gone.”

Ana shook her head. “No, the other one.”

“What other one?”

“Exactly.”

Bryan threw his head back and laughed. “I missed you. I missed all of you, in fact.”

She let the pleasure of the words wash over her for a moment before she shut down the feeling with methodical brutality. It had always been like this between her and Bryan. A little flirtation, a little mutual appreciation, always dancing around the fact that whatever they might think or feel about each other, they’d never act on it. It was one thing to bring new people into their group —Alex had become part of it, as had Melody’s boyfriend, Justin —but she and Bryan were owed equal loyalty from everyone else. Should they get together and it not work out, it would make things hopelessly awkward. Had they learned nothing from watching Friends? The last few seasons, the plotline between Rachel Green and Ross Geller had been downright painful to witness.

Ana gestured to the table. “Come have a seat and tell me all about it. Unless you want to wait until everyone gets here.”

The door chimed before the words were fully out of her mouth.

“Tell us what when everyone gets here?”

Ana laughed as Melody’s impossibly good-looking pilot boyfriend entered the café. “Hi, Justin. Come on in. Melody’s in the kitchen.”

Justin smiled at Ana; then his eyes fell on Bryan. He extended a hand. “You’re back.”

“Appears so.”

“Good trip?”

“I’m not sure I’d use the word good, but it was definitely illuminating.” Bryan’s expression became pensive. “No, I take that back. It was good. I’m just glad to be home.”

Ana nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was much more to this story than he was letting on, but she didn’t have time to ask before the door dinged and another group of supper club guests arrived at the café. Only then did she realize she’d missed her window to tell Rachel privately about the wedding venue problem.

* * *

Bryan hadn’t expected to see Ana at the supper club, which was somewhat ridiculous. She, Rachel, and Melody had been friends for years, rarely separated during their time off. Or at least that had been the case until recently. Rachel had Alex, with a wedding looming on the horizon. Melody had Justin, apparently —though before Bryan had left town, they’d broken up and Justin had moved to Florida to run a charter aviation business he’d purchased. He still wasn’t quite sure what had happened, other than the fact that Justin was here.

But Ana . . .

He’d been interested since he met her at Alex’s barbecue almost two years ago, and not in the way that he had been interested in most women. She was interesting: tough, abrupt, funny. Didn’t take his flirting too seriously, dished it right back in a way that said she saw through the act. And while there was unmistakable chemistry between them, she was just as reluctant as he was to see where things might go.

Back then, it had been because he knew she wasn’t the type to go for a casual hookup, and he’d been pretty sure Alex would destroy him if he slept with her and then broke up with her. Now, it was for a totally different reason. He was all too aware of his faults, all too aware of how easy it had been to abandon his values when he’d gotten his heart broken. Anything he had with a woman from here on out had to be a real relationship, something he was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to do since Vivian. Ana could not be his trial attempt at getting back on the straight and narrow.

Fortunately, the repeated chime of the front-door bell interrupted the questions he saw lingering in Ana’s eyes and turned their attention to greeting the stream of new guests. There was Dina, Alex’s younger sister, beautiful, tattooed, and pierced —also with a perennial crush on him that he was careful not to stoke. She was a full ten years younger than them and far more innocent than her appearance suggested. Also brilliant, a bona fide Mensa-level genius, but that was something she kept carefully hidden from everyone but those who knew her well. She’d brought along her friend Danielle, an equally pretty Latina who was every bit as outgoing as Dina herself.

Then came Andrew, a tall blond man with strong Nordic features and a lingering air of arrogance, along with a plain, dark-haired woman trailing behind. Bryan sized Andrew up as he shook his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I used to be Rachel’s sous-chef at Paisley. I took over for her for a while after she left.”

“Only for a while?”

“Paisley closed late last year. You didn’t hear that?”

Bryan couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. When Rachel had been in charge, the Larimer Square restaurant had been a rising star, garnering stellar reviews and constant buzz . . . until a social media scandal caused her partners to fire her. He’d bet they were regretting that move now. “No, I’ve been in South America for most of the last year. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” Andrew said. “What Maurice and Dan did to Rachel was lousy. I felt bad taking the spot, but I had to make a living.”

Bryan’s attention moved to the woman. She held her hand out and smiled. “I’m Andrew’s wife, Laura.”

“Nice to meet you, Laura.” He instantly changed his opinion of her. She had ordinary features, but a look of undeniable intelligence. He could see she was sizing him up much like he’d done to Andrew a moment ago.

“So, what are you doing now if Paisley’s closed?” He shifted his gaze back to Andrew.

“I’m a corporate chef. I work for a food conglomerate, developing recipes using their products.”

“That sounds . . . interesting,” Bryan said politely.

“It’s okay.”

“He hates it,” Laura said flatly. “I’ve been trying to convince him to go back to restaurant cooking, but he’s stubborn. Thought he had to give it up for me when we got married.”

“I make a lot more doing what I do now, and I’m home evenings and weekends.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “But back then you were actually happy.”

Bryan repressed his smile and excused himself before pushing through to the kitchen. Laura really was the perfect chef’s spouse —most lobbied for their significant others to take corporate positions so they could have more time together.

Rachel was stirring and slicing, completely focused, while Melody tossed a salad in a gigantic stainless-steel bowl.

“Can I help?”

Melody’s eyes widened. “Bryan? You’re back!” She set down the salad and went to hug him, but it was mostly wrists as she held her dressing-coated fingers out of the way. “No one told me!”

“I asked Alex to keep it a secret.”

“Hi, Bryan.” Rachel smiled, more subdued . . . but then again, his appearance came as no surprise to her. “Good to see you. We’ve missed you.”

“Thanks, Rach. I just talked to Andrew. I had no idea Paisley closed!”

She nodded. “In November. It’s kind of sad, after all the work I put into that place. Is it bad that I felt a little vindicated that it went under without me?”

“Probably.” Bryan grinned, and she chuckled. “I don’t blame you, though. I’d say it’s nothing less than they deserve.”

“I feel sorry for my staff. Fortunately, there’s a massive shortage of line cooks in Denver, so I’m sure they didn’t have any trouble finding positions. I just happen to know I was paying more than everyone but the most exclusive restaurants. Part of my employee-retention policy.”

“Which is why you were so successful, I’m sure. That and your amazing cooking.”

Rachel smiled. “I’ve already said I’m glad you’re back, Bryan. You don’t have to suck up.”

“I’m just hoping you’re still going to let your husband come out and play after you’re married.” He sent a smirk toward where Alex leaned against the wall and slung an arm around Rachel’s shoulder. “What can I do to help? If I’m sucking up, you should take full advantage.”

She inclined her head toward Melody’s station. “As soon as she puts the salad in serving bowls, you can put them on the table for me. And fill water glasses. There’s a couple pitchers of ice water waiting over there.”

“It would be my pleasure, Chef.” Bryan dropped his arm and retrieved the water pitchers, then pushed through the door back into the dining room. He carefully filled the water glasses, pouring from the side to fill them with ice, then from the spout to top off each glass with water.

“You look like you’ve done that more than once,” Ana observed.

“I used to wait tables in college.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought you needed to work your way through school.”

“I didn’t, at least not how you mean. But my parents were pretty clear that my climbing trips and my extracurricular activities were on my own dime. And I made a killing in tips.”

“I bet you did.”

Bryan sent her a curious look, wondering about the subtext to that statement, but Ana’s face didn’t give anything away. She had the best poker face of anyone he’d ever seen, hands down. No wonder she was such a good publicist.

Alex came through holding two big white ceramic bowls filled with salad. “You’re making me look bad, Bryan. Rachel put me to work.” He set them down on the table and backed off. Ana stepped forward and arranged them so each was equidistant from the plates surrounding it.

Bryan and Alex stared at her. She shrugged. “What? Rachel would have done the same thing.”

“Probably true,” Alex said.

The door dinged once more and admitted an elegant brunette followed by a tall man with a shock of red hair. “Sorry we’re late,” the woman announced.

Bryan didn’t recognize her until Alex said, “You’re right on time, Camille. Come on in. I think you know everyone?”

Ah, Camille. She used to be the front-of-house manager at Paisley and was probably the closest thing Rachel had had to a work friend. If he recalled correctly, Camille had dated Andrew at one point. That could make tonight interesting.

But she greeted her old flame with a friendly smile and hug and then made the rounds introducing her boyfriend, Chuck. When she got to Bryan, she shook his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too.” He shook her boyfriend’s hand before turning his attention back to her. “What are you doing now?”

“Insurance.”

Bryan blinked.

“I know, it’s boring, but it’s stable and it pays well.” She shrugged. “Couldn’t stay in the industry forever, I guess.”

It looked like everyone had moved on except him, even Andrew and Camille. But that wasn’t really true. He’d moved on in a big way, quitting climbing and buying a coffee farm. He was simply in a holding pattern until he collected the funds to open his roasting business. Which needed to be soon —the timeline in his head, ticking down to his bean delivery, had two fewer days left on it, just since he’d been back in Denver.

Alex disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later. “Since everyone’s here, we can all take seats.”

They shuffled into place. Bryan attempted to anticipate where everyone was going to sit so he’d end up near Ana, but they still landed on opposite ends of the table and he couldn’t reshuffle without drawing too much attention to himself.

Melody came out first, bearing three baskets of bread, which she staggered with Ana’s perfectly placed salad bowls, putting them down with just as much precision as her friend. So maybe they were all perfectionists when it came to table settings. She took a seat at the end of the table, and then Rachel came to stand behind the free chair at the head.

“Welcome, friends. I’m so glad you could all join us tonight. We’re starting with a mesclun salad and fresh sourdough bread. Then we’re moving on to a braised lamb chop over parmesan risotto. This is one of the few times that I decided to do a plated meal rather than family style, so I’ll go in the back and get them going while you enjoy the salad.”

“Oh, join us, Rachel,” Dina said. “We hate to eat without you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to miss the lamb chops. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Conversation hummed around the table as baskets and bowls were passed and the group helped themselves to the first course, but it was only light and meaningless. They were just finishing their salads when Rachel poked her head out of the kitchen.

It was a signal, apparently, because Melody immediately rose and began busing their dirty dishes, stacking them in a precarious balance on one arm. As soon as the table was clear, Rachel appeared with the first of the plates.

The food was beautifully arranged as always, its aroma making Bryan’s stomach rumble even though he was already half-full from salad and bread. Melody helped Rachel put the dishes down, and everyone had a plate in front of them in surprisingly little time.

Bryan wasted no time attacking his, closing his eyes in happiness at the first bite of lamb. Colombian food had been good, hearty and flavorful. But he’d missed his friend’s cooking and his favorite Denver restaurants. It was a different world for sure.

Ana was watching him in a way that made him think she’d read his mind and gave him a small smile. “So, are you going to tell us where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing? Or are you going to make us wait until dessert?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t thought much past the lamb. It’s amazing, Rachel. Thanks for letting me slip in at the last minute.”

Rachel smiled her acknowledgment, and everyone at the table echoed his thoughts, but from the eyes fixed on him, he knew he wouldn’t get to enjoy his meal until he explained.

Might as well be blunt. “I bought a coffee farm in Colombia.” He went through the whole story for what felt like the dozenth time, though he left out the loss of his sponsorship and the situation with Vivian, of course. Then he went on to the real kicker. “I’m going to open a roasting business here in Colorado. But before I can, I’m looking for funding to help me get set up. Most of my assets are sunk into the farm itself.”

Ana was the first to speak up. “Your dad wouldn’t help?”

“He’s looking over a proposal, but he’s pretty risk averse, even if it’s his own son.” Bryan paused. “Especially when it’s his own son. And I’d rather have an outside partner if I can manage it. Family and business usually don’t mix.”

“Any leads?” Alex asked.

Bryan took a bite of the risotto and almost got too distracted to continue. It was perfect. “I have a couple of friends that I’m going to approach. We’ll see what happens.” Friends might be overstating it a little bit. Acquaintances was probably a better word. But Denver wasn’t a large city, and considering who his father was, he had a pretty good idea of who might invest and who wouldn’t.

“What’s the business going to be called?” Melody asked.

“The farm is called Flor de Oro, but nothing has really stuck yet for the roastery.”

Guests began throwing out potential names, but once again he felt Ana’s eyes on him, assessing. Or maybe it just seemed that way to him. He hadn’t expected to feel this aware of her presence in the room. Apparently, time and distance hadn’t dimmed his attraction to her.

When the main course was finished and all plates were cleared, Melody brought out their dessert: strawberry custard tarts. “We’d normally have specialty coffee to serve, but our barista, Mark, had an emergency. We do have some regular drip, and it’s pretty good if I do say so myself.”

“I can pull shots,” Ana said.

Now everyone looked at her, including Rachel and Melody.

“What?”

“I didn’t know you knew anything about coffee,” Bryan said.

She gave him a slight smile. “You know very little about me.” She rose from her seat. “What does everyone want?”

“You don’t have to do that, Ana,” Rachel said quickly. “Sit down and enjoy dessert. Black coffee will go well with the tarts anyway.”

The others murmured their agreement, and Ana sank back into her seat and picked up her dessert fork. But Bryan’s curiosity was piqued. Ana was perhaps the most professional, focused person he knew besides his own dad. When had she learned how to pull espresso shots?

He barely kept the questions to himself until the supper was over, and he purposely lingered until everyone but the girls, their boyfriends, and Ana were left. He moved to Ana’s side. “I don’t suppose the offer is still open? I wouldn’t mind a cortado right now.”

Ana studied him for a second. “You just want to see if I can really do it.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I can, but it’s not worth getting the machine dirty for one shot. Another time, maybe.”

“I’ll hold you to that. How did you learn all this anyway?”

Ana shrugged. “Like most people did. Needed a job with flexible hours. I was a decent barista and made good tips.”

“What else do you know about coffee?”

“I was an assistant manager, so I know a little about running a shop. A bit about flavor and bean selection, but little about the actual mechanics of the roasting. Why?”

Bryan hadn’t even fully formulated why he was asking, but it came out of his mouth all the same. “When I get the business up and running, I’m going to need a sales manager. Someone who understands business and marketing and publicity, and has some coffee experience too, so it all sounds natural. I don’t suppose that’s something you’d be interested in?”

She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I’m flattered that you’d ask. But I like my job —I’m good at my job —and I don’t intend on leaving it anytime soon.” Her eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. “Besides, you couldn’t afford me.”

He laughed. “Probably not. Would you ever consider being a consultant?”

“I might consider it.” She gave him a secretive smile. “Good night, Bryan.”

She slipped into the kitchen, ostensibly to say goodbye, but she never came back. Bryan sat down in one of the vacated seats, his mind buzzing. Until now he hadn’t really thought about it, but he did need an operations manager. He would be completely consumed with the importing and the roasting. He hadn’t given much consideration to everything else that would need to be done to actually sell his beans and make a profit. Messaging, packaging, sales and distribution. Suddenly, the month that he’d given himself to find a place seemed ridiculously naive. If he didn’t have the other elements in place, he’d be hemorrhaging money while he figured it all out. And that was the dumbest business move he could make.

He absolutely needed help. And now he was pretty certain that Ana was the one to give it.

* * *

Ana slipped back into the kitchen, a smile lingering on her face. Seeing Bryan had been a surprise, but at least it was a pleasant one. He seemed different after his long absence. There were still glimpses of that flirtatious nature, but it was tempered somehow. Was it just the responsibility he felt, buying a farm in Colombia? Or was it something else? Alex had said Bryan only disappeared when he had trouble with a woman, but to her knowledge, he hadn’t been seeing anyone when he left. Not that she’d have any reason to know for sure.

“I see that smile,” Melody said from where she was cleaning up her bench. “Don’t try to hide it. You were glad to see Bryan.”

“I was, actually.” She paused. “He asked me to work for him.”

“Really?” Rachel’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s a new one. What did you say?”

“I told him he couldn’t afford me. I’ll help him out a little, though. At least with the paperwork.” She paused. “Rachel, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

At the serious tone, Rachel stopped what she was doing and turned. “What is it?”

Better to just have out with it. “The venue you and Alex chose isn’t available. They double-booked.”

Rachel blinked. “How could that happen?”

“Calendar snafu, apparently. I’m so sorry, Rachel. I feel responsible.”

“Why? You’re not the one who double-booked the venue.”

“Yeah, but I pushed you toward that one when there were other spots still available . . .”

“Stop.” Rachel dropped her towel and moved to rest both hands on Ana’s shoulders. “Both Alex and I agreed that was the perfect place. We asked you to book it, and if you’ll recall, we’re the ones who signed the contract.”

Ana exhaled. She should have known that always-calm Rachel would react this way. “I’m still looking for alternatives. I’m halfway through my list with no luck, but something has to turn up.”

“It will.” Rachel dropped her hands and went back to wiping down her station. “We’ll figure out something.”

“What about the lodge in Silverlark where Justin took me last year?” Melody suggested. “That place is gorgeous and it can hold tons of people.”

Rachel considered for a moment. “That’s an option. But it’s pretty far, isn’t it? Everyone would have to drive, or we’d have to charter buses to take them up there.”

“That could be fun,” Melody said.

“I’ll make a note,” Ana said. “Don’t talk to Justin yet, though. A venue in Denver would be preferred, especially because of the out-of-town guests.”

Melody made a zip motion across her lips and winked at Ana as if to say Told you she wouldn’t freak. Ana still wasn’t sure how Rachel managed to stay so calm. Had it been her wedding, she’d be panicked. It wasn’t even her wedding and she was still panicked.

“Did I tell you we’re getting ready to put my house on the market?” Rachel said suddenly. “Alex is coming over tomorrow night to help me paint. We’re going to try to get it up in May. With any luck, we’ll get an offer right away and be able to close escrow right after the wedding.”

“That’s great, Rachel,” Ana said. “Are you going to miss your place?”

She paused to consider. “Maybe a little. It’s the first house I ever actually owned. The first time I had a salary that could support a mortgage. But Alex’s place is amazing and it would be silly to give it up to move into mine.”

“But his only has one bedroom,” Melody said. “What happens when there’s little baby Kanins running around?”

“We thought maybe we’d remodel. The condo is big enough to add another bedroom. The living area is cavernous.”

Melody gasped. “You have thought about it then!”

“Not right away, of course. But yeah. I mean, he’s turning thirty-six. I’m turning thirty-two. We’ve got some time, but not a lot of time.”

Melody sighed happily. “Rachel as a mom. I can just picture it. Your kids are going to be flat-out gorgeous. Won’t they, Ana?”

“Without a doubt.” Ana smiled, but inwardly she couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy. Rachel was getting married soon and potentially having kids. Melody was happily in a relationship with a great guy. And she . . . well, her night out with Christopher Mason had been better than some of her recent dates. “Next thing we know, it’ll be you and Justin.”

“What about me?” Justin pushed through the door into the kitchen and went straight to Melody, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Are you almost ready to go?”

“In a couple of minutes. I’ll meet you out front.”

Justin seemed to realize that he was interrupting something and took the hint. He kissed her once more and returned to the front of the house.

Ana and Rachel stared expectantly, but Melody just shrugged. “I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. He’s back in Colorado and he lives nearby . . . That’s good enough for now.”

“How does he like the new job?” Rachel asked. “I keep forgetting to ask him.”

“It’s good. He likes having a regular route and he’s home every night by seven. It beats his AvionElite schedule.”

When Melody and Justin met, he had been a pilot for a fractional company that sold shares of private jets, which meant he was gone several weeks out of the month. He’d been in the process of buying his dream charter business, but its location in Florida made the romance look nearly impossible. After a lot of heartache, he’d taken a job with Mountain State Airways, a commuter airline that flew between Colorado Springs, Denver, Grand Junction, and Salt Lake City. He and Melody might not be talking marriage, but the fact he had come back was a statement of commitment.

More commitment than Ana had ever been able to elicit from a man.

She straightened abruptly and smiled at her friends. “I better go now. I’m going to check into some new venues for your wedding, Rachel, and I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

Rachel hugged her hard. “Thanks, Ana. I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Of course.” She shifted to give Melody a hug goodbye too, then dug her keys from her purse. “Are we still coming over for dinner on Wednesday?”

Rachel grimaced. “I’m sorry. I forgot Alex and I are going to his parents’ house that night.”

“Wow,” Melody said. “This isn’t the first time, right?”

“No, but it’s been a while.”

“Not a problem,” Ana said. “Let me know if you reschedule.” She threw one last smile in their direction, strode out the back door, and unlocked the driver’s side of her black Mercedes.

Where she sat, in the dark, feeling unaccountably lonely.

No, not lonely. Left out. Left behind.

Which was stupid. After all, hadn’t she always been the hard-charging one? The career-oriented one? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a social life. She dated. A lot. It was just that none of those dates had ended in something lasting like Rachel’s and Melody’s relationships. All the guys she met were either too self-absorbed or too needy. Where were the normal ones who were happy to spend some free time together but otherwise allowed her to have her own life?

But it wasn’t just that. It was that in Rachel and Melody finding their happily-ever-afters and their business together, they’d become a tight little unit of two. It wasn’t intentional, of course, and it was as much Ana’s fault as theirs. Hadn’t she been the one to throw them over in favor of her new problem client last night?

She cranked the key in the ignition and the motor purred to life, nearly silent in the cabin of the luxury behemoth. It was completely ungrateful to want more than she already had; it was downright spiteful to resent her friends’ happiness. She sent a prayer of apology skyward, crossed herself automatically, and backed out of the narrow parking spot.

She was just unsettled because of all the unknowns in her life right now. The new client, the wedding venue. Once she got those things figured out, she’d be feeling like her old self once more.